Tiger Cub is pacing back and forth in his cage. He's called me everyday from London warning me of the dangers of talking to other boys. "Things can get out of hand with you if I'm not around, you know", he explains gasping on the line.
I'm in Washington, DC, soon to be former residence of George Bush. I'm staying at home, my wife, kids and I have a cordial relationship. This is a big house and things need looking after, I was Mr. Home Depot and now I'm gone. Two teenage boys are also a handful, nagging, bitching, complaining and then sulking – sometimes all in a single sentence. I wish I knew how I could help her.
But it's PRIDE week here in DC. Professor Tim in Chicago sensing immient danger is coming here Friday. We've managed to convince Peter, our straight friend,to evacuate his apartment in the gayborhood for the weekend. Professor Tim and I will set-up our command center here. Prof. Tim lands at noon, I fully anticipate that the first major incident will have happened before the sun sets. No gay Mexican will be safe, the dream team is on the case.
Much to my amazement, my wife is supportative of my weekend, to some extent, she wants me to get on with my life (I assume). I sense we're both now in a our own gray zones, how do you break free from all of this? There's no anger (which at least creates energy), but clearly there is another stage to come. Perhaps we should just take it easy, move carefully, there's no clear win for either of us by hurrying. But she has her own life and I want her to step forward with her requirements as well. It can't be all fun for me and all work for her.